


Piping and Draping on a Saturday Night

by cmere



Series: Dr. Dickhead 💩 [1]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alex is a student affairs professional, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, First Kiss, Henry is a professor, M/M, event planning is stressful, henry is a disaster gay, hunter redemption lmao, if you don't know what that is you will soon, pipe and drape is the devil, they're at a college dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmere/pseuds/cmere
Summary: Dear Alex,Please consider this email confirmation that I am available to help supervise students at the End of Semester Dance on Saturday, December 19th. Do let me know if there is anything I should prepare in advance.I look forward to working with you.Sincerely,Professor Henry Fox, Ph.DHistoryAlex doesn't really understand why boring and pretentious Professor Henry Fox volunteers to help out at his students' events every semester, but he needs all the help he can get, so he's just gonna have to put up with him.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Dr. Dickhead 💩 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112699
Comments: 49
Kudos: 231
Collections: The Firstprince Secret Snowflake Exchange





	Piping and Draping on a Saturday Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cor321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cor321/gifts).



> This was written for the [RWRB: A Gray Area](https://discord.gg/25DZeU9) discord server's Secret Snowflake exchange! Cor, I know you wanted a college AU, and I hope you will be okay with this twist on it :D Apologies for the lateness. Massive thanks to C for giving me the idea originally and L for reading this over <3

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we're all ready for the dance tomorrow, thanks. We have a few staff volunteers. Mostly residential life, but that one professor from the history department who always volunteers is coming. Henry Fox." Alex twirls his pen around his finger, leaning back in his desk chair.

"Professor Fox? He looks so fucking miserable at these things every goddamn semester," Zahra, Alex's supervisor and the Director of Student Life, says from the other end of the phone, snapping her gum. "Why does he always volunteer?"

"I don't know," Alex exclaims. "He's such a dick and I totally overheard him making rude comments one year about how all we do in student affairs is plan parties and give out free food. He has no idea the amount of leadership and work required of these students to pull everything off, or how much goes into my job training and coaching them. I mean, I had to get a fucking master's degree for this, you know?"

"The academic affairs folks never get it. But you better be looking at him like the sun shines out of his dick tomorrow, because we need all the help we can get at those shitshow dances."

"I know," Alex grumbles. "I'll play nice. And the students love him, for some reason."

"Well, good luck. If you need anything, don't call me, because I'll be drinking mimosas on the plane to Bali." Zahra sounds way too smug about her upcoming vacation.

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good trip, boss."

"See you in two weeks, and not a second before."

Alex hangs up, then goes into his Dr. Dickhead 💩 folder in his email inbox and opens the email Henry wrote him three weeks ago after he sent out his request for volunteers. It's always some variation on the same pretentious bullshit.

_Dear Alex,_

_Please consider this email confirmation that I am available to help supervise students at the End of Semester Dance on Saturday, December 19th. Do let me know if there is anything I should prepare in advance._

_I look forward to working with you._

_Sincerely,_  
_Professor Henry Fox, Ph.D_  
_History_

Heat crawls up the back of Alex's neck; he tugs at his collar and, because no one is around to see him in his office at 6:30 P.M. on a Friday, sticks out his tongue at the computer screen. Pompous dick. Why _does_ he always come to the End of Semester Dance? Probably some cool professor bullshit he tries to pull for the students to like him more. He always looks so awkward, standing alone at a high-top surveying hundreds of drunk students grinding, sipping on punch with his full pink lips and his stupid perfect face. He never even tries to talk to the other staff or get to know anyone. What is _wrong_ with him?

Alex shakes his head and closes out of his email. Time to go home and enjoy the bit of weekend he gets that evening; he'll need to be back early tomorrow afternoon to help the students set up, and he never gets home until after 1 A.M. on dance nights.

—

Event days are always a complete mess, and today is no different. Students are running around hanging decorations and yelling at each other for supplies while Alex gets interrupted every five seconds to answer everyone's random questions. He spends a crucial half hour trying to calm down Hunter, the special events planner who's in charge of the dance, after he collapses into tears when he realizes he forgot to pick up the check to pay the DJ and the cashier is closed for the weekend. Alex tries to reassure him that they've worked with the DJ for years and she knows they're good for the money, so everything will be fine—and that no, he's not a complete failure who won't graduate college or get a good job in the real world due to this one mishap; in fact, he's an exceptionally organized and responsible student leader, and any employer would be lucky to have him, which Alex will happily certify with a stellar recommendation. By the time Hunter cracks a smile at him beneath red-rimmed eyes, it's 6:30 PM and students will be arriving in half an hour. 

Alex rushes around, helping finish the decorations, testing the sound system, tracking down stanchions, and flirting with the catering ladies so they'll give out extra plates when they inevitably run out halfway through, even though it's technically against the rules. He's leading two student volunteers through setting up the pipe and drape behind the DJ booth when a low, disturbingly British voice interrupts his intense focus.

"Good evening, Alex."

Alex whirls around and promptly drops an extremely heavy pipe on his foot. "Fuck! Ow. Hi. Jesus." The students giggle and exchange looks at Alex's potty mouth. They're only first years; they'll get used to it.

"Did I startle you?" Henry says, looking completely unperturbed. Alex takes in the whole picture of him, proper and professional in a sky blue button down tucked into well-fitted khakis with an expensive-looking leather belt cinched around his waist. His hair is perfectly windswept, swooping over his forehead, eyes big and blue and beautiful over sharp cheekbones, hands in his pockets. Something tingles its way down Alex's spine at the sight of him.

_Fuck._ Okay, so the guy is attractive. That doesn't mean he's not a complete ass. Alex might be bisexual, but he's still _discerning_. He doesn't just fall in bed with every beautiful person he sees; they have to have a personality, at least. Which Professor Henry Fox, Ph.D, is sorely lacking. And he's probably straight, anyway. Who gets a Ph.D in _history?_ Sounds like some straight nonsense to Alex. He tries to ignore the throbbing in his big toe while suddenly hyper-aware of how disgustingly sweaty he is in his threadbare Event Staff t-shirt from five years ago.

"No, I just dropped this lead pipe on my foot for funsies," he replies sarcastically. The students giggle again at his side. He starts to lean down to pick it up, not noticing Henry doing the same until their foreheads bang together. Miraculously, Alex prevents himself from falling flat on his ass, but now his head is pounding in addition to his foot. He doesn't even try to keep the irritation out of his voice when he says, "Fuck, man, are you _trying_ to kill me or something?"

"So terribly sorry," Henry says, straightening up, eyes wide in horror. His British accent only pisses Alex off even further. "I was just trying to—I'll just, erm, go find a spot to stay out of the way. My apologies."

"Wait, it's fine." Alex rolls his eyes. "Just—hang on. Hunter!" Alex yells across the room. Hunter sprints over to him from where he was organizing everything at the check-in table. "Please take over this pipe and drape for me before it ends my life prematurely."

"What is it with you and the pipe and drape?" Hunter says, grinning. "Remember at Homecoming when you literally walked right into the pole and thought you got a concussion?"

"That's enough," Alex says quickly, but the first years are giggling again, and even Henry's cracking a smile. "Just get it done, and for the love of God, don't ask me for help with anything else until the dance starts. Henry, come on."

Alex strides away without waiting for a response or checking to see if Henry's following him. He heads straight for the catering table and immediately loads up a plate of chips and dip and mini-cupcakes.

"Was this your intended destination?" Henry asks, good humor all over his face. It's irritating.

"Yeah. Get some food before the students all get here and annihilate it."

Henry laughs, but dutifully grabs a plate and starts filling it up. Alex thinks about what Zahra said and forces himself to play nice.

"Thanks for coming tonight. It's really helpful to have some adult-adults around, and, well. You know the drill. But you're, like, the only professor who ever shows up to this kind of stuff, so. Thanks."

"Of course," Henry says. "I always look forward to it."

"You do?" Alex can't keep the surprise out of his voice. "Why?"

"It's a great opportunity to connect with students outside of the classroom. Helps them see me as more of a human and all that, and vice versa. And, well." Henry pauses, holding a glob of dip on a spoon over the bowl. Alex notices it tremble slightly in his hand. "It's always fun to see...your whole operation, everything you've got going on. The students love you, and it just seems like you love your job, even though you're here practically every weekend and always putting out all those crises. You put the life in Student Life. Which is sort of the point of university, if you think about it." Henry slaps the dip down on his plate, laughing a little and looking kind of sheepish all of a sudden.

"You really think that?" Alex is floored by Henry's words, but he tries not to let it show. Professors usually don't have any idea what he even does, and Henry always seemed just like the rest of them. Alex notices a pink tinge to the tips of his ears. He straightens up but avoids Alex's eyes.

"Yes, of course. I was woefully uneducated about your work when I started coming to these things, I'm well aware of that. But I know how important you are to the students and the university, and, well, it's...nice. To see you." The flush is spreading down Henry's cheeks now, and he shrugs. "But I won't take up any more of your time. I'll just find my table in the corner—"

"Dude, you don't have to, like, separate yourself from everyone. Come on, I'll introduce you."

"I'm sure you have plenty of other things to be doing—"

"Don't be an idiot. It's the setup that's chaos. Once these things are going, they practically run themselves."

Alex leads Henry to the small group of residential life staff who are joking around with students at the check-in table. Nora's eyes light up when she sees them.

"Henry Fox! History, right? Queer history? I've been wanting to meet you! Students are always raving about your classes."

Alex's head spins as he watches Henry smile and nod, striking up a fast conversation with Nora about his research on queer signaling in 18th century Britain. It's not that a straight person _can't_ research queer shit, it just seems...unlikely.

So Henry is probably queer. And has somehow come to appreciate Alex's work over the years, even though most of the academics on campus don't spare a second glance at him. And apparently volunteers to oversee a bunch of sweaty drunk young adults dry humping in the student union twice a year at least partially because it's...nice to see him.

That's a lot to process after five years of quietly raging every time he sees Henry's name pop up in his email inbox and clicking as hard as he can to file it away in his Dr. Dickhead 💩 folder. Alex is suddenly extremely tempted to start searching students at the door so he can find a flask to confiscate and sneak into the bathroom for a few large sips, but he's somehow made it five years at this job without drinking, and he's not going to start now. He sets his jaw determinedly, then, after clearing it with Hunter, goes to open the doors to the hordes of students waiting outside.

The rest of the evening thankfully passes without any serious incidents. Alex sends two overly drunk first years back to their residence halls with public safety escorts, and the catering ladies refuse to put out any extra plates after all, so he has to run to the gas station across the street to buy some. But all in all, the dance is a smashing success, and Alex feels a swell of pride watching Hunter smile bashfully and accept congratulations from all his student colleagues for an event very well done. 

Henry even integrates himself more than usual after Alex's introductions, chatting with staff and students and laughing and hopefully having a good time—as good as possible for being at work on a Saturday night, anyway. He and Alex end up back by the catering table together at some point and get into a spirited argument about the best Star Wars movie that leaves Alex laughing and exhilarated and weirdly tingly again at the glint in Henry's eye and the challenge in his voice. No matter how _very_ wrong he is.

Alex releases the staff volunteers to go home when the lights come up at midnight, barking lazy orders at the students who run around cleaning everything up. He's surprised, when he turns around, to see Henry there, collecting plastic tablecloths off the high tops and tiredly joking around with Alex's student staff. 

"Is it past your bedtime, grandpa?" Alex calls over when Henry yawns, walking towards him. "You don't have to stay, you know. The students can take care of this stuff."

"I don't mind," Henry says with a smile, and they clear off the rest of the tables together. Alex sends the students back to the Student Life office with a cart full of decorations and supplies as the final item on the evening's agenda, and it's only when they're out of the building that Alex turns around to look for his jacket and notices the pipe and drape.

"Fuck," he says, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Ah, your old enemy, is it?" Henry says, coming up beside him and nudging their shoulders together. "Need a hand?"

"Uh, yeah. If you don't mind, it's really—a two person job. At least. Goddammit. Sorry, I wanted to let you get home. Actually, don't worry about it, I'll just text Hunter to come back—"

"Don't be silly, I'm here already," Henry says brightly, clapping his hands together. "What do we do?" 

"We just—" Alex gestures vaguely at the curtains, then groans. He tangles his hands in the velvety fabric, resting his forehead lightly against it. Suddenly, it seems like much too big of a problem for him to deal with after the entire day and night working his ass off, running around and putting out fires and making sure everyone is happy and not dying of alcohol poisoning and learning and growing as a person and all that shit.

Alex senses Henry in his space before he actually feels him; then, Henry's right behind him, up against his back, running his hands over Alex's arms until they're covering his own. Alex's heartbeat turns rapid and heavy; the tiredness he had been experiencing instantly evaporates, and he's left with a thrumming, restless energy, pulsing at his wrists and his throat and his upper inner thighs.

"Alex," Henry murmurs into his hair, just behind his ear. Alex spins around in his arms and looks up to meet his eyes. They're wide and terrified, but determined, too, and there's a quick burst of heat in Alex's chest, spreading through his entire body. "You were amazing tonight. I like watching you work. You're so...impressive. And you asked why I always come to these dances, but I didn't tell you the full truth. I like to see the students and all, but really, it's because I've always, since the first time I met you right here in this room, just wanted to..."

Henry trails off, but his hands are coming up, over Alex's shoulder blades, up his neck, cupping Alex's face in his hands. Then, he leans down and kisses Alex on the mouth, soft and sweet and full.

Alex freezes for only a second before kissing him back. Everything is rushing through him at once, a mess of thoughts and emotions and confusion, but soon he's turning up into Henry and realizing that what he feels more than anything is desire. Henry's fingers curl into his hair, and Henry's tongue curls into his mouth, and _God_ , he wants this, pure and simple. It feels good, feels _right_ , feels like five years of something dynamic and heated and full of life coming to a head, creating sparks between their lips, their bodies, their hands. Henry pushes him up against the velvety curtain of pipe and drape, and— 

Suddenly, the entire contraption is crashing down, and Alex is stumbling backwards, legs tangling in the thick fabric, collapsing onto the ground. Henry falls on top of him, momentum keeping them pressed together. Alex blinks up at him, taking in the red slash of Henry's mouth and the vibrant blue of Henry's eyes before bursting into laughter.

"Fuck," Henry says, laughing too. It only makes Alex laugh even harder.

"It's totally out to get me," Alex says, allowing his body to recline completely on the ground, still shaking with laughter. "Fucking pipe and drape."

"I think the blame might fall a bit more onto me this time," Henry says with a wide smile, rolling off Alex onto his side. His eyes are sparkling and beautiful.

"How did you know I wasn't straight?" Alex asks out of nowhere, because he's dying to know.

"Hunter told me," Henry says with a shrug. "I had him in class this semester, and, well. He said you and I were his two queer icons on campus." 

Alex shakes his head, grinning. That fucking kid.

"Do you want to have dinner with me sometime?" Alex says before he can overthink it or chicken out.

"I'd love to," Henry says instantly, and somehow, suddenly, Alex really doesn't give a fuck that he's still at work past 1 A.M. on a Saturday night, lying in a pile of pipe and drape, exhausted and delirious after twelve hours of nonstop activity. He just throws his arms around Henry's neck and pulls him down for another kiss, and Henry's smiling into it, and _damn,_ does it feels good.


End file.
